


Pluviophilic

by awintersrose



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Even Sunans feel the heat, M/M, Subtle Romance, Sunagakure | Hidden Sand Village, desert life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awintersrose/pseuds/awintersrose
Summary: When a Sunan heat wave overtakes the village, precious rains bring blessed relief.





	Pluviophilic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shipcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipcat/gifts).

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHIPCAT! May your week continue to be filled with awesomeness <3
> 
> This version of the Sandaime Kazekage references @thatshipcat's headcanons, which I adore. Note that Rasa and Nadir are distant cousins. If that is not your cup of tea, then you have been warned.
> 
> Pluviophile - (n) a lover of rain; someone who finds joy and peace of mind during rainy days.

Wither, blister, burn. Those words are all that rings true of the scorching heat bearing down on the denizens of Sunagakure when the sun is at its zenith in the desert sky. It is the hottest summer experienced by the village in the last decade, and the strain is evident everywhere.

Shipments of food and goods from the other nations have become scarce, as most foreign merchants cannot hazard the trek across the dunes without great risk. It has been left up to Sunan shinobi to procure and bring back supplies along the trade routes, but even the desert’s children feel the wrath of the sun. Their caravans are forced to travel more slowly, and the chances of running out of water are very high.

Village life, however, must continue. Midday as a general rule always finds the streets emptied and businesses closed until the heat is no longer fit to cook the skin off of a shinobi’s very bones, yet usually those who find sufficient shade and hydration still venture about, conducting their usual activities. That is not so any longer.

Though he carries out the noble duties that are his birthright with aplomb and grace, even the Third Kazekage is assailed by the growing pressures of a village that feels as though it is under siege. Only there is no enemy lurking beyond the gates - they are under siege by nature itself.

As Shuka’s chosen, he should be able to bring forth a solution, shouldn’t he? 

But it seems as if the gods are not listening.

Rasa can see the burden slowly weighing upon Nadir’s shoulders, and most of the news he brings as master of the treasury is not good news. The other nations have taken advantage of Suna’s more urgent need for imports, increasing costs or demanding additional goods in trade. The current peace is tenuous at best, and they are not in an advantageous position if faced with another war - especially over trade commodities. 

Nadir takes great pains to conceal his unease, but Rasa can read his cousin like a book. The stress lies in the set of his spine, the slight pinch about his eyes. Nothing others might notice. Rasa, however, has spent years at Nadir’s side, closer than any retainer or sycophantic noble - and trading intimacies that remain quietly reigned behind closed doors. Duty will always trump affection, for they are Sunan, and Rasa was born to serve.

But watching Nadir, he still wishes he could erase the line of tension drawn through his form.

Even the Kazekage’s usual private sanctuary has been marred by the punishing heat. The hidden balcony garden where the Third can usually be found soaking in sun and tranquillity whilst overlooking the village is no longer a personal Eden in miniature. The lush greenery is browning, slowly dying - only the hardiest of native plants remain untouched. When Rasa seeks out his cousin, Nadir is standing in the midst of them, dead blooms clutched in one hand. 

“What news of the Konoha trade discussions?” Nadir asks, golden eyes fixed on the flowers.

Rasa takes a breath. “Not good news, I’m afraid. They require a reduction in the per unit pricing of textiles and spices shipped to Fire Country in exchange for the goods we have requested… or a general increase in the amount provided, at no cost.”

The Kazekage’s expression gives no indication of his thoughts. “And you’ve agreed to the reduced pricing.”

“Yes, my lord. As a temporary measure - accounting for the fact that the civilian workforce will be unable to serve our own needs if producing double, and unrest is a concern.”

“Good call. Send the discussion minutes to my office. I will be present at the next review.” 

Nadir’s eyes remain far away as Rasa gives a slight bow. He knows when he’s been dismissed.

There is no telling what will happen if relief does not come soon. What demands will be pressed upon them, how they will be forced to react. But weeks later, when hope is running thin, the first clouds appear on the horizon.

Rasa is toiling at his books when a bubbling uproar begins to build beyond his door, and his temper flares at once. There is too much work to be attended to, and this is the treasury office - not a place for such frivolity. He rises to reprimand the secretaries and aides, but when he opens the door, two words rise above the din, nearly stopping his heart.

_ “It’s raining!” _

Before he can even respond, the slightest hush falls upon the space, and Nadir appears within his field of vision, tugging his sleeve, pulling him in the direction of the Kage’s living quarters. He cannot protest, will not protest, but there is no giveaway to Nadir’s expression that he can piece together, and his own emotions are rife with disbelief. The pessimist within Rasa wants to naysay the burgeoning hope that this event brings, but then they arrive at Nadir’s apartments and the Kazekage throws open the doors to his balcony. A gentle rain is indeed falling upon the hot stone and thirsty plants.

Without hesitation, Nadir begins to step outside.

“Nadir, you’ll get soaked…” Rasa begins, abandoning formality altogether.

“Join me.”

There is no arguing with a ruler, effectively a prince, and Rasa does as he’s told, stepping past the doors and out into the rain with the man who holds his very heart in his hands. He steels himself for getting waterlogged and inevitably assailed by the steam that will soon rise from the hot stonework beneath his feet. But the raindrops falling on his face and seeping through his robes are somehow cool, slowly washing away doubt, and replacing it with blessed relief.

He finds himself smiling for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

The elation rises all the more when Nadir turns and points to the view beyond the balcony, his eyes brilliant. “Look, Rasa.”

The people, normally reserved and stalwart Suna citizens, have taken to the streets in celebration. Some in awe, others in thanksgiving. And others giving in to the excitement and openly dancing in the rain.

Nadir looks up at the sky, closing his eyes as silver droplets cascade over his form. The downpour brings with it a steady tattoo of sound that beats upon the stones in a perfect rhythm. He gives a soft laugh of delight as he turns to face his cousin.

“Is it not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” he asks, “It might as well be a high holy day.”

“There is much to be grateful for,” Rasa replies, unable to strike the wondering smile from his lips, buoyed by the unbridled joy that seems to flourish all around them. “Perhaps a new tradition is born of this miracle.” 

They stand at the balcony watching the revelry below until both are well past soaked in the cool benediction of the gods above. Nadir’s hand closes around Rasa’s wrist, lightly grasping, fingers tracing his pulse.

“Tradition, yes,” Nadir muses, meeting Rasa’s gaze, “Traditions are what we make them. I too, wish to celebrate.”

Before Rasa can think or protest, Nadir tugs him into the shaded bower of his once-lush garden, kissing him with a tender warmth. The rain falls soft around them, blurring the edges of everything in sight, and revivifying their world.

Later, as they collapse together in a languid tangle of limbs, with sweat and rainwater drying on their skin, the hypnotic sounds of the storm outside haven’t stopped. A comfortable silence lingers between them, and Rasa sinks into the gentle lassitude, listening to the soft cadence of Nadir’s breath, and savoring the feel of calloused fingers dancing along his spine.

“Do you know what happens after the rain… when the desert has not known water in far too long?” Rasa asks, his voice mild.

“It has been many years since this kind of occurrence,” Nadir says, “I only recall the renewal of resources.”

“It blooms. Beyond the village walls, life begins all over again. Seeds coaxed to flower among the sands like a carpet of color. I’ve been told it is beautiful.”

“Then I might come to love the rain all the more.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a kudos or a comment if you can, I would love to hear from you <3
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr: [awintersrose.tumblr.com](http://awintersrose.tumblr.com)  
Pillowfort: [www.pillowfort.io/awintersrose](http://www.pillowfort.io/awintersrose)  
Twitter: [www.twitter.com/awintersrosered](https://twitter.com/awintersrosered)


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